


ρerfect ρlaces

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Formula One, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, F1 Championship, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied Sexual Content, Interviews, Love Confessions, M/M, a bit of Jos Verstappen being a shitty parent as always, supporting each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:14:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26045605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Max is a journalist, Daniel is a F1 driver, they first meet in Barcelona.And they fall in love, deeply, hopelessly, so, so easily ...
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Comments: 10
Kudos: 100





	ρerfect ρlaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frawst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frawst/gifts).



Max knows his career history and knows it can be impressive. He completed his studies faster than everyone else did, like a kind of mea culpa to his father, that of never having been able to become what he wanted him to be.

But it's not enough, it never has been.

He failed but he found himself elsewhere. His mother and sister gave him enough assurance that it was enough. That it was the most important so he will flourish in journalism. He never would have believed, he wasn't really gone for that but it was an option that just ... released in front of him.

First steps with his new employer. He is currently supporting the sports department and doesn’t yet have the most interesting job. “The real work”. But it suits him. He watches F1 from a corner, always close enough to the right office. He even fits well into the agency, which is a small victory for him.

Little by little, he builds his routine.

The small coffee in the morning in his favorite shop, the debriefing, the news, the meetings, the set-ups, the articles, the distribution of roles, the unforeseen ... even the unexpected. He likes the unexpected. He likes to be challenged, to test himself, to see where his limits are and how to overcome them, but-

But he would never have believed it was possible.

Because suddenly finding himself with a ticket to Barcelona in hand, his suitcase at the feet, it's really disconcerting and he almost wonders if he can succeed in the task given to him. Well, he must succeed but he has the pressure. Too much pressure.

Excellent work, compliments rained on him at the end of this first period and then Jonathan, who was in charge of the Formula 1 section, had to take hasty leave. This is where it started. Panic all around, the search for a replacement and he was pointed out several times to finally be chosen. An honor.

And deep down he tells himself that it’s not that different from the other field missions he has done.

And in fact it can be so different.

He hasn't done any such work since he arrived in sports. He's been in politics before, so he might consider it a similar experience but-

But politicians definitely don't have disorderly curls, a smile that can compete with the sun and tattoos making them as sexy as they are desirable.

Daniel Ricciardo.

It's a bit of a weak point, honestly. He coped with it before. He has managed to deal with the Monegasque, the French with cocker spaniel eyes, the definitely very attractive Spanish, but there his brain blocks. Ow. 

As soon as the driver comes in front of his microphone to answer his questions, he knows it will be complicated. He adjusts his cap. Professional, Max, professional. He arranges himself a neutral mine. He's been through a lot, can't see himself failing now. 

“So, Daniel, congrats on this pole, your feelings ?”

“I think I had some luck, I had a lot of grip on the last and the first sector and we didn't know how long it was going to last ... we just gave everything we had and it was the right moment to do it because ... ”

The aussie pauses in the middle of his sentence, looking puzzled. He tilts his head to the side and licks his lip before resuming :

“You ... are you new ? I don't remember ever seeing you.”

Max feels panic inside. A blush that could pass down his cheeks. He takes a deep breath.

“Because you remember everyone who interviews you ?”

“No ... but I think I would have remembered you.”

He looks up to heaven. He doesn't know if it's flirtatious or just irrelevant phrasing.

“Yes. I am new.”

“Haha. Yeah ! Knew it !”

The enthusiasm of Daniel reveals on his lips a ravishing smile. Max feels surprisingly weak in the face of this sun. Good god, blinding.

“Mmh, the interview ?”

“Ah sorry ! So yes, so ... ”

The rest of the day went by without a hitch. He sees several pilots parade by his side and always welcomes them with the same smile anchored on his lips. He’s happy to do this job. Really.

He never totally forgets those soft brown eyes and disorderly curls. He doesn’t forget.

It's quite surprising how someone can capture his attention, how he can retain everything about a person that he only had one moment by their side. 

\--

Fuck. It's the only thing that comes to mind. He forgot his pass and cannot enter the paddock because of this error and what will he say to his team who is counting on him ?

He has so much responsibility, it's overwhelming. He doesn't usually crack under pressure but then remembers that this isn't supposed to be his job and if he messes up not only does he drop his team but it’s also his place in the office that is compromised and he can't lose it. Not after so much effort.

He watches the entrance desperately. Unable to find a solution. His brain is spinning a mile an hour. He's resourceful, he just has to-

“Excuse me, this person is with me.”

Max looks up, surprised. Daniel Ricciardo stands there, waving his pass with one hand, gripping his sleeve with the other. A short discussion ensued but he didn't even catch it, too stunned by the situation, by what is happening.

The driver drags him behind him, inside, and god dammit he's relieved. So relieved. 

“Thank you, Mr. Ricciardo. Thank you very much, I don't know what I would have done without you.”

The Aussie turns around, a solar smile on his lips, which seems to increase further when he scrutinizes him. Maybe it's just his imagination.

“Call me Daniel. And don't worry about it ... Jonathan ?”

He chuckled on hearing this sentence, beyond his comfort zone, far beyond, but finds himself still wanting to answer him, to be familiar.

“The person I'm actually replacing.”

“Ah, damn ! He didn't look like a Jonathan ... neither do you. Can I get your name ?”

He raises an eyebrow, noticing his team not far from them, which reassures him permanently.

“Maybe later, Daniel.”

He offers a wink at the older one, leaving him on the spot. How good to enjoy his expression of surprise. Quickly swallowed by the crowd, Daniel doesn’t have time to run after him.

Too bad, he thinks, a slight amused pout on his face.

He believes he has never been so comfortable with someone in his life. It's a first. Strangely peaceful. Halfway to this freedom, this happiness that he missed so much throughout his childhood.

Far from those icy blue eyes, too similar to his, from that firm, authoritarian grip, from that angry, disapproving, disappointed, critical, upset tone ...

Not an ounce of joy, of worry for this path he had chosen, just anger, his son less than nothing ...

These memories still hurt him. Even today he fights to regain his freedom and if sometimes his name follows him, he always makes sure to free himself from it. He is not a Formula One driver after all. He is not and never will be.

\--

Daniel won the race. It was a bit risky and far from being won in advance in view of all the upheavals, the safety car and the vagaries of the weather, but he did it.

Max smiles softly seeing the result, he won't admit watching the race in detail and being scared for the Australian on several occasions. Nay.

The awards ceremony takes place from afar, while he is already in the interview area, ready to welcome those who will not step on the podium. He grinds his teeth when he sees the Monegasque too close, way too close to Daniel, congratulating him, but he reasons quickly. It doesn’t concern him.

He concentrates again, interviews a Briton who is a little too upset about a penalty he has been given, although he doesn't let it show he feels it anyway. Closed face, polite smile, media-friendly.

He does his job.

He manages to do it correctly, not going overboard, not dwelling too much on matters which are not within his purview. He is fair. With a terrible accuracy, such that no one can blame him.

At the very moment when he joined this school, where he wanted to become a journalist, he signed up to be one of the best. It was characteristic of his education; to be the best. Although it’s not in the same field.

Sad smile on his lips, his last interested has just left him to go to rest. Intervals.

He sighs, waits a little longer. He and his cameraman exchange a look.

“You don't have to look so sad, I'm coming !”

Circonspect. Max immediately composes a professional, more neutral tune when he realizes someone else has reached his microphone. Oh. Daniel. A seductive smile on his lips.

“I know you were dying to see me.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Daniel Ricciardo, so this-”

“Daniel.”

Confused look, his interlocutor hastens to clarify.

“We said just Daniel.”

“Daniel. This first place. We saw a difficult race, tell us about it.”

“Ah. Yeah, complicated. We knew we had to keep this first place but the pace was bad. The strategy really saved us and the … ”

The usual question and answer session. Even if the driver opposite is ridiculously attractive. Charming. Charismatic ? He can’t make up his mind on his qualities.

Subtle touches and almost flirtatiousness against him. Isn't he the only one to have caught the other's eye ? He doesn't necessarily want to find an answer to that question.

Too many attractions that ended up being one-sided.

He moves slightly and, from here, the smell of Daniel reaches his nose. A subtle flow. Sweat, deodorant, champagne. Nice combo. 

The interview ends. Almost to his regret. He flutters his eyelashes, Daniel takes advantage of a deflection of the camera to lean forward, whispering to him :

“And now, I still can't get your name ?”

The daring gut-wrenches him. Damn it. 

“I-”

“Daniel !”

Called to order, the Australian offers him an apologetic smile before withdrawing from the session. 

Left alone or mostly, Max sighs and runs a hand through his hair, lifting up the plain blue cap he's wearing for protection from the sun. 

He assumes he's going to see him again anyway. 

\--

Monaco. Monaco Grand Prix. 

He loves this city. He cannot afford to live there full time as he would have liked but he still likes to come. Whether it's for a Grand Prix doesn't bother him in the slightest.

He knows the F1 drivers live here. For his part, he is satisfied with a hotel which is paid to him with some happiness. The modest rooms never bothered him, especially for the benefit of adventure.

The days go by too quickly and he's always busy somewhere. End of free practice on Friday. He interviews the French with puppy eyes, Pierre Gasly. He's a cordial, cute driver. He really likes his blonde locks.

Daniel is probably not going to come to his microphone today, he realizes, and it's a shame but that's life. He can’t force fate, meetings. He can only hope for them.

Which seems far from enough at the moment.

They are putting their things away when a haggard-looking man, looking for something, appears and he needs a second to realize that it is actually Daniel. His Daniel.

Who sketches a solar smile again when he sees him.

“I was afraid you were already gone !”

Max just shrugs his shoulders.

“I'm here the whole weekend.”

“But a day without seeing me is a lost day !”

This same boldness, arrogance is nothing more than a touch of humor, self-mockery. He really appreciates that in the older one. Pleasant. 

“Why don't you give me something if I win ?”

“You need to win already.”

Daniel is shocked, outraged that he doesn’t believe in him. He laughs inside.

“I'm going to win ! And at that moment you will have to at least tell me your name.”

“My name. Okay.”

“And more. More because I-”

“Max ! 5 minutes !”

He turns to the call and sees members of his staff. The debriefing. He had almost forgotten. He nods eagerly to their attention before turning to his interlocutor to continue their conversation.

This one has a surprised look on his face, his eyes twinkling.

“Max ! Max, Max…”

The way he pronounces his name would almost make him blush. He growls slightly, he has been negligent.

“Looks like you're going to have to find something else to give me for my victory, Maxy.”

“Yeah, yeah, first you have to win.”

“I told you. I'll win, that's not even a question. Your number maybe ?”

He doesn’t reply.

“I take that for a yes, you know ? See you later, Maxy !”

He has earned a new nickname and, honestly, he’s not proud. He feels too weak in front of this person. Ready to give in to him a lot when they know each other so little.

How strange.

How strange and his chest heaves slightly. Butterflies in his stomach and he shakes his head in disbelief. It’s not possible, it’s not even possible.

\--

Daniel acts in a strictly professional way with him and Max must admit that he is quite impressed. Simple glances, discreet winks to remind him of the promise.

And, honestly, he believes in it.

The Australian driver achieves an incredible and totally deserved P2 and if he misses pole by a few hundredths of a second, what he achieves is beautiful. And you don't have to be an F1 fan to realize this. 

The Monaco circuit can be misleading, but he believes in it. He got a little too attached to this man with a smile and good humor that seem inexhaustible.

He believes in it as he watches the race. He believed in it until the 33rd lap of the race. Two drivers collide, dragging a third car with them.

The number three shines on the car of the victim.

Daniel.

He watches the Australian get out of his car - thank god he's fine - but can't read his expression, seen too briefly. He knows full well what that means, he doesn't even think about their stupid bet, he thinks about Formula One and Daniel he-

Daniel is going to fall behind in the championship because of this crash. The first place will fly away.

Max is back in the interview area and nervously runs a hand through his hair, readjusting his cap with a steady hand. He doesn’t shake, he is calm, it’s his job. It's all behind the scenes. Stay reasoned because he's not supposed to get involved.

He first welcomes the two culprits who explain themselves as best they can (note: who are blaming each other) then finally the real victim of the accident; Daniel.

Face too closed, eyes cold, not a hint of smile. So Max doesn't linger and gets straight to the point. It wasn't supposed to concern him no matter what kind of relationship they were developing. He withdraws further and perhaps the driver notices his detachment since his anger seems to slip at a few moments.

As if to reassure him.

Which is frankly ridiculous. It’s not him who has just had an accident, it’s not he who is in a delicate situation. He insists on the "Ricciardo" harder.

His day is not over. The race is not over so he is busy as soon as possible. He never laments that kind of thing, he doesn't want to dwell on his own feelings even if the truth is that-

He's a little disappointed. 

As Max strides back up the paddock towards the exit, because this time his job is over, he meets Daniel on the road.

And has for the first time the vision of what this crash really did to him. Shoulders slumped, head bowed, gait slowed down, Daniel knows it, Daniel knows full well that this is the kind of thing he might not recover from, that could put him out of the race for the championship without having a single other try, while it's not even his fault, that he didn't make any mistakes. In the wrong place at the wrong time. Frustrated.

He doesn't resist. He goes ahead, surprising the Australian who is definitely lost in his thoughts.

“Should we have dinner ?”

Surprise that finally froze a small smile on his features, incredulous.

“Usually I wait to get to know people better before eating with them.”

Max shrugs. He didn't expect to be turned down, he just wanted to cheer him up somehow, even though he's not sure he's the best company…

“As you wish.”

“You have the talent to surprise me, Maxy.”

He lifts his head and when he meets the gaze of Daniel, brighter than it was just a few moments, he already knows he has won.

\--

They don't even end up in a restaurant. They order take out and find themselves at Daniel's house, slumped on the couch, watching a somewhat mediocre series they found earlier on Netflix.

The comments they make make them laugh about every two seconds and Max feels relaxed. Again. Heat in his chest.

Daniel's arm is resting on the sofa, just above his shoulders. By shifting slightly he could make contact, wondering if this is reasonable. But anyway, they've been beyond reason for a long time.

“Mmmh, Max ...?”

Daniel's voice is hoarse, a lazy smile on his lips. He swallows when he notices that the older one has stopped watching television for several minutes to look at him.

“...Yes ?”

He has a dry throat. He swallows. The pilot’s hand rests on his cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of his jaw.

“You truly are beautiful.”

Max doesn’t know where to turn. No such words have ever been whispered to him and he feels himself blushing slightly, caught in the moment. They are so close to each other, so close. He feels his breath on his lips.

“Max ?”

A hesitation and it’s he who finally extends the movement. Their mouths come into contact. Daniel doesn’t close his eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost takes his breath away and he prefers to close them. The Australian's other hand slid onto his neck as he put his arms around the older man's waist. They move slowly, one against the other.

He feels like he's waited his whole life to find him.

The pilot makes a gesture to get rid of his top.

“Can I ?”

He doesn’t answer but returns the kiss. 

\--

Two GPs later, he is told that he will spend the rest of the year in this position. Which, in itself, doesn’t bother him in the slightest. He got attached to this job and it makes him smile softly to tell himself that he is in F1, not the way his father would have liked, but he is there anyway.

In the last race, Daniel didn’t win but had a nice p3, hard won after having started 20th due to a mechanical problem. He had greeted him with a small smile, proud of this driver, whom he still refuses to consider his.

Just because they had ... an affair one night doesn't mean they're dating or anything. 

He interviews the Monegasque- Charles Leclerc. He still doesn't like him, still finds him too close to Daniel, but since he's a professional journalist, he gives him a polite tone and air. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Yes, this P2 is really good, I would do my best to keep it.”

He thanks the driver, moves to the next.

“Daniel !”

His face lights up too and he must restrain his burst quickly. Daniel, however, doesn't change his smile.

“A solid P4, what do you think you can expect for tomorrow ?”

“I was a bit disappointed about it but the fact that we are on a different tire strategy is our asset, it’s sure that …”

He patiently does his job. The Australian oscillates in front of him several times, sometimes seeking contact, other times eluding it. Uncertain. He is the last to come to his microphone.

Interview over, he begins to collect their things, to help his team, but Daniel doesn’t move, remains standing right in front of them, waiting. He's getting closer.

“I still don't have your number.”

Daniel pouts. Max smiles upon when he hears this and flicks the older one.

“You still haven't won a race.”

“You- ... Maxy, Maxy ... when will you learn.”

“Until proven otherwise, the last bet we made did not materialize.”

Daniel's face darkened. He shakes his head gently, looks left and right, making sure no one is watching them, and gently rests his lips on his cheek.

“Win this race, champion.”

A beatific smile that illuminates as he steps back, turning to his team. He’s already too addicted to the Australian driver, it’s surely bad not to stick to the professional but ...

What if ?

\--

Max watches the race carefully and Daniel didn't lie when he spoke of their offbeat strategy. He watches him make a daring overtake and just in time stops himself from jumping for joy. He's amazing, the Aussie is amazing.

The laps pass over his eyes and he sees Daniel impose himself with an incredulous smile. He did it, he succeeded. He’s back to win the championship. Reassured. 

He continues his routine and questions drivers on their race as he hears a recognizable hymn being sung in the distance. It's good, it's good. They belong to two different worlds, always.

Sometimes he wonders what it would have been like to be in Formula One. To stand on the podium with him. 

Then he remembers what he escaped from. Who he escaped from. He can't think about it, he doesn't even have the right to think about it.

Daniel enters the interview area many minutes later. He waits a bit to go talk to the winner of the race but the latter walks straight towards him and, under his dumbfounded eyes, takes him in his arms. 

The strong smell of champagne reaches his nose.

“You made it ... You made it !”

“I made it !”

The Australian driver is happy, he literally shines with joy, and he can't stop a smile from coming to his lips. He pulls away from the embrace and coughs lightly, regaining composure. A little too aware of the looks on them.

“If I knew it would motivate you so much, I would have promised it to you against a championship.” he mumbles and the older one laughs softly.

“Really, Maxy ? You should feel honored to know me who is amazing, beautiful, funny …”

“Modest, definitely modest.”

“... nice, attentive, adorably-”

Daniel finally ceases his endless list when he offers him a nudge in the ribs. Professionalism after all.

“Right, Daniel, about this race …”

He takes advantage of a moment of inattention to slip the paper carefully prepared in advance with his phone number in the pocket of his interlocutor. 

Then he walks away. 

He has to sort through the post-race videos to find the one where Daniel throws a confused look to the side (presumably him who just left) before putting a hand in his pocket and picking up a piece of carefully folded paper. 

Max feels his heart beating at his temples, always faster. He almost blames himself. He doesn't know how long it will last. He receives a message from an unknown number an hour after he left the paddock.

\--

He is recalled to his agency, following a lack of personnel. His director is really sorry but there is no one to take care of the political section and he is the only one with any experience in the field so-

So he misses the GP of the Netherlands. His Grand-Prix.

Max hesitates to send Daniel a message. He doesn't. Will he miss him ?

He still doesn't know what they are. No matter how many smiles, hugs, or discussions they exchange, he doesn't know what they are. They never put words on it, they never spoke about it and half a year is over. 

Uncertainty kills him, fear of rejection makes him retract. He still doesn't have enough self-confidence. 

He managed to finish his tasks earlier. 

He asks his team to go to the field. And, surprisingly, it's accepted. He therefore joins the paddock on Sunday afternoon and the race is over (Daniel won, it's quite ironic that he won his race in particular) but he still wants to help with the tidying up.

And if he can spot one or two drivers passing by, it will be pure coincidence.

What Max doesn't calculate is who may be on the track today. 

He goes up along the entrance with a certain confidence; he's been here before after all, and is heading straight for his agency box. Halfway, he freezes, overcome with fear.

His father stands further away. 

He doesn't want to see him. He doesn't even feel able to see him. He turns back on the sly and by not looking where he is going he bumps into someone. Worried brown eyes, brown curls, scent of vanilla. The winner.

“Maxy ? What's going on?”

“My father is here. I don't want to see him. I can't … please Dan help me …”

“Your father ?”

Daniel frowns but brings him in his train. He knows he's going to owe him an explanation. Weariness. 

“Did you call me Dan ?”

The nickname slipped out of his own mouth. The F1 driver still didn’t turn around, continuing to walk.

“I ... yes ?”

“Good, good.”

The Australian seems satisfied and they get into his driver room. He sits on the sofa. He has trouble dealing with all these emotions that assail him. He pulls his ID card out of his pocket, not trusting himself to speak, and simply shows it.

“Max ... Emilian ... Verstappen ?”

He just nods.

“Is your middle name Emilian ?”

He looks up, surprised. Daniel has a soft smile on his features, to reassure him, he realizes.

“Yes …”

Daniel drops to his side, just waiting. He is patient with him, much more patient than anyone he has met in his life. He always had something to displease them.

“I should have been there. By your side. If I had followed my father I ... I would surely be a F1 driver now. But I couldn't, I didn't want to. History has run its course and ... well here I am. On the other side.”

“Maxy …”

He forces himself to keep his eyes fixed straight ahead but it’s not enough and the Australian surrounds him with his arms, bringing him against him. Max still feels fragile, too fragile. 

But incredibly strong in another way. Because he has held up all these years and can't see himself falling apart now.

"I was thinking that your face was remembering me something. But I waited you know I waited for you. Imagine my disappointment when I saw a stranger instead of you.”

“You ... you waited for me ?”

He's not the only one feeling this. He’s not the only one. There are several hazards they need to watch out for, he knows them all, he's been trained in that, but right now he wants nothing more than toss them out the window. 

“Daniel, is that…”

“I'm an F1 driver, I'm thirty, I thought I was far beyond any surprise…”

“You're fighting for the championship this year.” He picks it up with a raised eyebrow and the older man waves his hand, brushing aside this topic of conversation.

“Seeing you as a journalist, however, was a surprise. The most beautiful of this year.”

“You could win the championship.”

“No pragmatism here. I'm not talking about my career, it was never about that. I'm talking about my private life, I'm talking about you and me.”

He has a heavy breathing while extricates himself slightly. Hot brown eyes staring at him with interest, with passion. As if he was the most beautiful thing Daniel had ever seen.

“You …”

“Yes ? Did I leave you speechless ?”

Hoarse tone. He shakes his head slowly, a smile climbing up his lips.

“No, I feel the same. I was worried if ... if you felt the same as me. Because I love you Dan but we are very few things ... and my very existence could endanger your career.”

“If I waited for you all this time, Maxy, it’s not to lose you over a stupid mistake.”

I waited for you.

The same feeling as him, in the hollow of his chest. This void, which he never particularly sought to fill, but which today takes on all its meaning. He was waiting for him.

Daniel draws him to him almost a little too hastily and he climbs on his pelvis without hesitation. Mouth to mouth, simply. Always more, never less. Savor the moment. 

“Will you come back ? I miss seeing you in your shirt. But above all without a cap.”

“The caps are comfortable …”

“You wear them all the time. You have beautiful hair though …”

Daniel pouts and that annoys him as much as it moves him.

“To answer your question, I'll be back at this post next weekend. But I am not sure I will stay here forever.”

“Whaaaat ? It's okay I'm sure I'll find a way.”

“Bribe my boss is not part of the solution, Daniel.”

The Australian driver grumbles and presses a little harder against him.

“I'll pay you access, I'll have you come with me.”

“You are unbelievable.”

“I love you. I can say it, even though we are only at the very beginning. We still have a lot to do.”

“Like ?”

“A first date.”

“Usually, you get laid after the first date from what I say but …”

Daniel pinches his rib.

“You’re my exception ?”

He hears the question and smiles gently.

“Only if you're mine.”

\--

It turns out that his absence ends up being noticed and Daniel's gaze promises him so much more that he ends up slipping his duplicate keys and his address in hand.

Not careful enough.

He pulled away from his embrace and his kisses with difficulty to move up the paddock and the more than affectionate touching session they had made the crowds disappear. There are only a few people left near the circuit.

He calls his manager and gives a random apology that is accepted a little too easily and he is called to come to the agency for a last minute debriefing.

Perhaps the opportunity to return to his post.

The meeting is long, nothing unusual. They do the accounts and proceed by talking about the next projects. Lots of ideas and, finally, what he was waiting for, his return to the F1 section.

His joy is unmatched as Max returns home. Daniel is harnessed to the stove, cooking something that smells awfully good, the horrible pink apron his sister bought him when he moved in, wrapped around his waist.

He pauses for a moment, leans against the doorframe, watching him.

The skin marked with ink, golden. The quiet whistle that escapes from his lips. The way he moves his body, in tune with music Max certainly doesn't know, while stirring a pan.

Incredibly familiar. Domestic vision.

It twists his nerves and upsets his heart. Turns him over bluntly, upside down. Funny emotional. Not long ago, he would have given a lot to find someone like that. Who understood him, who loved him, who came to perfect his life.

Without even looking for it.

Daniel turns around and finally discovers him.

“Max ! Set the table, it's ready soon. Did your meeting go well ?”

Daniel Ricciardo, Formula One driver, quietly at home doing his meal. His boyfriend surely. He realizes this with a certain start because he has spent all of his time as far away from tracks as possible and has finally been brought back there. What a funny and capricious thing that fate is.

But if, coming here, even reviving painful, unpleasant memories, he finds Daniel, then he is ready to start this journey over a hundred times. Always.

“Yeah, I ... I'm back to interview you.”

“Excellent ! Without wanting to offend your colleague, he cannot hold a candle to you.”

“You're not impartial, Dan. You love me too much to be.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

He starts to drop two plates on the table, quickly accompanied by cutlery and glass. He freezes for a moment, between the kitchen and the dining room, a thought crossing his mind.

“I didn't tell you but well done Dan. It was a great victory. You won my race.”

The Australian driver smiled briefly to him, switching off the fire under his stove.

“I had to. I haven't finished impressing you, pretty one.”

He leaves the eldest pass him but he pauses for a moment, kissing his cheek, before continuing his way.

“And then I won you too ! And this is priceless.”

Tens of answers come to mind but he remains eerily quiet. Savoring the moment. He may worry about fallout later. He's tired of watching every step. He wants to live.

And, sitting across from Daniel, his hand on his, he feels like he can breathe without restrictions. For the first time in a long time.

\--

There is a little break in the season and Daniel is taking him with him to Australia. 

They build their relationship, he knows it well, they still have to adjust to each other and sometimes it's a little awkward, even embarrassing, but they know how to laugh better.

They argue too. Learn that sex can be a great in-between. But they mostly talk about it. They have to talk about it, both of them, they need it.

To confess.

The sky is beautiful and if the lag kills him during his first few days, he gets used to it pretty quickly. They go on hikes and his boyfriend shows him his favorite places.

They are like in a bubble out of time. Where they can be just themselves and leave behind any celebrity, any stain that might hurt them. Harming their relationship.

He loves him, it’s an increasingly light confirmation that takes place in his chest. He loves him. 

Daniel freaking Ricciardo.

The one and only.

His one and only.

He feels like he could live this life forever. With all its inconveniences and bad sides. Ready to accept everything because it is bearable with Daniel by his side. Because they get there. 

The Australian's lips on his are a sweet promise he will never forget. 

And under the starlit sky, Daniel grabs his hand and kisses him tenderly. He can see a corner of the Milky Way reflected in his eyes and the vision amazes him.

“I promise you, Max. I'll bring you a world championship. For you.”

Max is not the naive kind, he’s grounded in reality, to the point where it sometimes annoys people around him but insurance in the eyes of the one he loves is such that-

That he just believes in it.

\--

“It's impossible, I'm never going to get there …”

Daniel mops more on his sofa and Max nervously watches the time go by. He has to go back to his staff but he finds it difficult to leave his boyfriend, especially in this state.

“Of course you will, now get your ass ready or we’re gonna be late !”

“But Max ...”

“No way you’ll let this pretentious Monegasque win one more race !”

“You hate Charles so much that you'd do anything for him to lose.”

“Daniel Ricciardo ...!”

His slow rumbling threat in the air and he must stop in his impetus. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He needs to calm down, this conversation is going nowhere.

“Did you see the gap in the championship ? I would never come back quicker enough.”

“When did you become such a crybaby ?”

His phone vibrates furiously in his hand. He can’t look at the deadline forever. He has other things to do. Less important but it's his job, it's what he chose to be.

“Listen to me now, Ricciardo. Listen to me.”

The raising of tone and the use of his name are sufficient for the Australian driver to lift his head, dumbfounded.

“You” he begins while pressing against his chest with his index finger, “are going to win me this damn race. You're starting from a P10, which isn't great but you've already managed to come back from a P20, that's not supposed to be a big deal.”

He steps back, collecting the bag he left on the ground. An electroshock. That's what he has to give him. Electroshock. His words are carefully chosen as he makes one last eye contact.

“You are Daniel Ricciardo, pull yourself together good god ! And…”

He turns around.

“Win this race and come home with me or lose it and fuck off.”

He hastens to his team and is half reprimanded for being late. He smiles flatly, apologizing, and walks the rest of the way with them. 

A little further on he can hear the circuit hymn reasoning.

\--

The race has started and Daniel is making his way in a ridiculously daring way. All him in a few laps and Max observes that P10 transforms into P9 then into P8 as the race progresses.

Impressed wouldn't even be a strong enough term. He secretly smiles because that’s so much his australian; moping a few minutes before pulling out a stunning performance.

“Max !” he’s called to order and helps with a data transfer. 

People around are just as blown away by Daniel's race as he is and after a while he doesn't know how but his boyfriend makes it. The first place, finally.

There are several laps remaining and his gaze keeps returning to the screen, checking that the result is maintained. A battle for the first place which gives him the impression of being in apnea. 

“Come on …” he whispers softly “Come on, Dan, you can do it …”

The crossing of the line to the cheers of the crowd, the euphoria of victory. 

His cameraman pushes him slightly behind the back, with an inquiring gaze. Oh, that's right, the interviews. He hurries to reach the right area. His enthusiasm is brief, his professionalism takes over and he retains a satisfied smile when Charles Leclerc introduces himself to his microphone, P8 only because of a pitstop failed in a monumental way.

He didn’t have the opportunity to interview the big winner of the race and joined with some disappointment the box of his team. He is greeted warmly. By the time he emerges, the sun has started to decline and Daniel is standing at the door.

“I almost waited.”

“You would have seen me earlier if you came to my microphone.”

“I wanted to do my debriefing as soon as possible to have my evening free …”

His Australian sends him a gentle smile before picking up his cap and putting it on. He protests weakly.

“How did you come to the circuit, Maxy ?”

“I was dropped by.”

“Well then, follow me !”

His hand is taken and he is concerned to be noticed but there is almost no one. He feels paranoid every now and then, but he knows that fame interferes with private life, privacy, whatever it is.

“Where are we going ?”

“Wasn't that the deal ? Win and come home with me. So I'm taking you with me !”

A brand new Aston Martin. He fights the urge to drive it. Take a careful look around him.

“Aren't you afraid of being seen ?”

“Get in.” that's the only answer he receives and he complies.

The drive is silent at first. Max tries not to think too much about how much he missed the pilot's touch. He’s wasting his breath.

“You did it.”

“Didn't you believe in me ?”

He allows himself a moment before answering.

“A bit too much.”

A murmur. Daniel turns his head briefly to look at him, his eyes shining with keen emotion.

“You always manage to believe in me.”

“I …”

He doesn’t know what response is expected from him. He can only say what he has on his heart, what he thinks.

“You are my boyfriend, coupled with an excellent driver. I have every reason to believe in you. I still want to believe in it …”

And he will always remain impassive and neutral in the eyes of the press, because that is his job. This doesn’t change his beliefs, his hopes.

“I love you, Max.

It's sweet. To his ears. It sounds like a thousand implied promises. He rests his hand on the hand of the older one for a moment, to make any contact.

“I love you too, Dan. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

He isn’t mad at Daniel that, when they landed barely in his hotel room, he loses all his clothes.

\--

Daniel's luck and his talent seem to form the ultimate combination for his rise. He crosses his fingers at each race and if they cannot all be won, he attends each one.

“I can do it.” Whispers his boyfriend one evening, against him, while they were lying in the dark, in the bedroom of his apartment in Monaco. “I really can do it. "

“Wasn't that obvious from the start ? I hope you reserve the first interview for me.”

He leans forward and brushes their lips together. Daniel makes a satisfied buzz on contact.

“Seriously, Max, that terrifies me. One mistake and it can be the end.”

“You must not think about the mistakes, you must not derive the way. Don't start worrying about hazards, aim for victory.”

“It seems so simple when you say it like that.”

“Someone has to believe in you.”

His companion chuckles and wraps an arm around his waist, thrusting his nose into his neck. There is still so much they have to say to each other, so much that they haven't talked about and it seems so far away ...

“Thanks for being here.”

“No” he resumes in a whisper, swept by a torrent of emotions “Thank you for being there, Dan.”

Unsaid. To have chosen him, beyond anything he could have had. He would have thought it was a mistake if it wasn't ...

If it wasn't for the way Daniel was looking at him. 

\--

Halfway towards the end of the year, Max learns that he will be able to keep this position, that his work fully satisfies his agency. Perfect. He did everything right, he did everything.

He will be able to stay.

Daniel's joy in learning it is unparalleled, now that he has finally given up on the idea of making him quit his job to be full-time with him (possessiveness which does not bother him but which can be a bit disabling), and he finally takes him to the restaurant.

After some sex.

Of course.

The place is not the most chic, Daniel has found a quiet corner for them, a calm restaurant close to the sea. To make him as comfortable as possible, don't bother too much about it. It's perfect. He sees the sky and the city lights reflecting off the dark sea and it's beautiful. 

“Do you like it ?”

“It's perfect.

He kisses his partner's lips to thank him.

The bottle of champagne almost seems too much to him, but Daniel is so sincere and frivolous that he lets him offer him this meal. 

And all the night that follows-

And their bonds which tighten, this relationship which is consolidated-

Soon a year-

It’s a more beautiful present than anything that could be offered to him.

\--

“You got it, you’re gonna win this.” Max declares, straightening his boyfriend's outfit in a gesture.

“Damn, yeah. Yeah, let's do this.”

He lets his hand slide along his shoulder, slowly detaching the grip he maintained on Daniel and the latter steps back.

They have to go their separate ways. Today everything is played out. Today just might be the day.

They both know it too well. He knows full well he has to go before his absence is noticed once again and before someone comes to check on what the Aussie driver is doing.

So they walked towards the exit but that doesn't seem like a good way to say goodbye, good luck. He turns as they diverge, catching up with Daniel in time.

He pulls him to himself and leads his lips to his, interweaving their tongues. He moans in the kiss and only releases when they are out of breath. His “good luck”.

“Do a race no one will ever forget.” he whispers before walking away. Because his place is not there.

\--

Max is too nervous. He wants to stop looking at the screen every two seconds. Daniel needs at least a second place and he will be crowned world champion.

While his team noticed his restlessness, they made no comment, just betting on the odds. Hearing these bets stresses him even more.

He can't decently tell them it's his boyfriend that they’re talking about so he keeps his mouth shut.

He doesn’t want at all to create a scandal, not sure that his agency appreciates that he has got it on with one of those he interviews and with whom he is supposed to keep a “strictly professional” distance. Silence is his best weapon.

He's worrying himself sick.

He wants to see him succeed, he wants so much to see him succeed.

Breath cut, held back. Where he could have been, the road he chose to deviate from. Where Daniel could get.

The situation doesn’t unblock.

The Australian driver stumbles on second place. A fight far from given and whose resolution arrives at the finish line. A few hundredths separate them, it's so light.

So light, will it remain the same ? Are they going to have to do it all over again? Picking up his boyfriend's pieces ...

So close, too close. Come on. Come on, he believes in it, he never stopped believing in it. Drama queen to make them wait like this, holding their breaths, counting their breaths, as if they could change whatever is happening on the track.

Max counts the meters that separate them from the checkered flag. He is in a hurry from all sides, time to get back in place, his sleeve is pulled but his eyes do not leave the screen in front of him for a single moment.

Daniel did it.

He covers his mouth with one hand, a frozen cry on his lips, at the edge, which doesn't quite come out. Few separate the two cars but in the end it was he who won.

Staggering, he finally moves, follows the request of his team and goes up the paddock more slowly than he should. Struck by emotions. He did it, he did it again. 

Messy interviews, he tries to stay focused but it's hard. There are few drivers parading at the microphone, some seem to be running away from the press and, in the midst of the silence, a voice echoing-

“Max !”

Daniel runs to him and he doesn’t know how to react because, damn it, he did it. He couldn't be more proud of him. He feels his eyes grow wet but bites his lip to hold back any potential tears.

“Dan !”

After a certain point, he’s swept away by his instincts and also comes to meet him, not feeling really well until a strong embrace closes around him. He breathes the scent, the mixture of sweat, champagne, victory.

Daniel succeeded. Daniel is the world champion.

“Well done, I knew you could do it.” he whispers in his ear “I'm so proud of you.”

“I wouldn't have done it without you. You gave me the strength to fight harder.”

“That’s not true.”

He knows that the Australian is strong enough to get there by himself. He doesn't want this success, the crown looks so good on his boyfriend ...

“That’s not true.” He repeats, more firmly this time “You did a fantastic job and well deserved this title.”

Daniel shooks his head and recoils slightly from their embrace that doesn’t break. They stare into each other's eyes for a moment and there is a sparkle in the older one he seems to be seeing for the first time. A glow that has lit up. Unbelievable. Breathtaking.

“Max ..?”

Dangerously close. Again. His heart rollercoaster in his chest. He finally lets go and drops in free fall, only to see Daniel fall by his side. The question of whether they'll land safely or decide never to set foot anew?

“...Yes.”

Mouth against mouth again. A validation, an agreement. They forget about the world around them. His driver, who has just been world champion and who nevertheless jumped from the podium, fled his team at the slightest opportunity to come and find him, a simple journalist who has become so much more. Boyfriends. Couple.

It's a bad idea. It is a terrible idea. His logical mind is reasoning at top speed.

Max just tightens his grip around Daniel a little harder.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't mean to write that much but it just happened i guess 😂  
> In fact i have a couple of ideas about this (including a proposal) but i thought it was a bit too much to include it in the fic ...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this piece of writing ! ✨


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